“Not that far.” When he adjusted, she nodded. “That’s it. Now aim, center your breath as you focus on the target, and let your arrow fly.”
Rather than merely releasing the string, he moved his hand forward, stealing some momentum from the arrow. It flew low and landed in the bracken to the right of the target.
“May I?” Lucy lifted her hands, requesting the bow back from him.
He turned it sideways, laying it in her palms like an offering.
“Show me how it’s done,” he told her encouragingly.
Lucy bit back a chuckle and offered him a half smile. “I thought you’d been watching from the window.”
“That was from too far away. Go on,” he urged. “I want to learn.”
“Your form is good. The placement of your hands, the tension you achieve in the string. But once you’ve nocked the arrow, the only thing that should move is your fingers as you release. Let the power in the string do the rest.
“Like this.” Lucy took up the bow, nocked an arrow, and made sure he was watching.
But he’d moved behind her, so close his warmth sheltered her from the cold.
“May I?” He reached an arm around, his sleevebrushing hers, his chest at her back. Then he wrapped his hand around hers.
Lucy held her breath and felt his whispering across her skin.
“I’m not sure—”
“Just show me, Lucy,” he said, his lips near her ear. “I’ll follow your lead.”
His touch was light, but what she couldn’t ignore was his heat. It seeped into her skin, soothing and enticing all at once. And his scent. Forest and something earthy and rich.
Lucy pulled back. James’s hand came with hers.
She breathed against the string, focusing on the target. His fingers could hinder this shot, but she did as he suggested. Precisely as she would if he wasn’t there.
On an exhale, she lifted her fingers and set the arrow free. It flew fast and true, straight into the target’s center.
“Now your turn.” Lucy turned to hand him the bow, but just as he reached for it, footsteps approached, crunching over frost-covered leaves.
“Lady Lucy, I received your note to have a basket prepared, but there was no mention of when you will require it. Did you have a time in mind?”
“A basket?” James arched a single ebony brow.
Turning to answer Mrs. Fox, an idea struck. Lucy intended to go down to the loch, take photographs with her box camera, and sketch the landscape. A perfect start to her Scottish holiday. But there wassomething she wanted even more—answers from Lord Rossbury.
“How about eleven?” she asked the housekeeper, intensely aware of James watching her.
“Very good, my lady.” The older woman cast a long gaze at each of them. “If either of you cares for warm refreshment, tea, coffee, and a light repast have been laid in the dining room.”
“I’ve failed her,” he said quietly as he watched the housekeeper’s retreat. “She sent me to encourage you to come back inside and get warm, and I got distracted.”
“I had no idea I was so very distracting.”
He let out an utterly masculine burst of laughter that made her feel as if she’d won a prize. But when she didn’t laugh too, his brows drew together in a frown.
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“I have lots of ideas, my lord.” She didn’t like the implication that she was naive. Particularly from him.
“That was never in doubt.” He took a step closer. “You are distracting, Lady Lucy. Never doubt it.”
